Unceremonious Flash of Red Light
by myrhymesarepurer
Summary: FMAB, Post Promised Day / Team Mustang decides to conduct a miracle while the Lieutenant is on a coffee run. / "Boss, don't you want to wait for-?" "No." Even Dr. Marcoh hesitated as if Mustang's authority wasn't enough. But, the General politely encouraged the doctor to be brief and hasty with his life-altering transmutation. / Royai


**a/n** _here's a little thing. it's been sitting on my desktop too long,  
_ _It's like_ _ **2000**_ _words I think. or whatever._

* * *

The physical affects of that day were clear.

He was admitted to the hospital with bumps and bruises,  
the casual slice straight through both of his hands.

She came in nearly completely drained of blood  
holding together a giant slit across her carotid with pale fingers.

Then there was the whole _blind_ thing.

It was all quite hard to believe,  
every member of their team left out of the loop.

The physical affects were clear.

But, no one knew exactly what had happened,  
deep in the tunnels under Central,  
the Promised Day.

No one knew what happened to them.  
Not truly, anyway.

Havoc probably knew the most, the outline.  
The night he arrived in Central, he camped out in their hospital room,  
knowing all too well the sting of a spontaneous life-altering disability.

He could offer comfort, understanding.

Sure enough, Roy cracked, mumbling a few things here and there,  
a brief recount while Riza slept, her face ghostly white,  
her temporary peace fragile as the thinnest glass.

They used her against him,  
Roy had muttered in the dark.

He watched her die and was then pinned down  
and forced to perform human transmutation.

Somewhere in that chaos,  
his sight was taken from him in exchange.

"That's stupid," was all Jean Havoc had to say in response.  
For, that's all he really could say. This was _psychotic._

It wasn't fair.  
It was so cold-blooded, ruthless.  
Science, of all things, deciding to violate its own damn rules.

His commanding officer, his truest of friends, the most honorable man  
he had ever known was forced by the Universe, _or whatever,_  
to pay for a horrible criminal something _he didn't actually do._

even after he had let _her_ \- his most precious subordinate -  
even after he had let her die to _successfully not actually do it._

It was just _stupid._

Still he was blind.  
She was half dead.

But, they were here.  
They survived.

And, that's all Roy Mustang would say for now.  
That's all there really was for now.

The new General and his men instantly began to prepare, focused on moving forward.  
Mustang strategized and reanalyzed and did not let on for a second  
that he was out of the fight. Perhaps he would not be Führer.  
But, he would still work.

They were still alive.

Then.

Out of absolutely nowhere, there was a way to reverse all this.  
The all-powerful ultimate cosmic red stone of alchemy  
or whatever. _Stupid,_ but perhaps used for good,  
for the future.

Havoc was kinda shocked when he got the call.  
He just bought his ticket back East, leaving the next day,  
entirely resigned from the notion of full and total recovery.

Havoc had gotten so settled in his convenience store,  
into his chair, off his feet, no longer a soldier.

Life was different.  
And, then it wasn't.

Roy Mustang gave him orders.

"You get your legs back. You rejoin my team."  
"This is weird," was all Jean Havoc had to say.

He studied his ticket for only a moment before crumpling it up  
and tossing it out. _Dues Ex Machina_ , it seemed, one miracle ending  
to a bad horror story that didn't have the guts to pull through to the grim finish.

Havoc shrugged.  
At least they were alive.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning, Boss."

So, here they were, all six of them, crammed into a crappy hospital room  
waiting for Dr. Marcoh to arrive. Here they were in a most unceremonious manner,  
making small talk,  
twiddling their thumbs,  
waiting on a most life-altering event,  
while the Lieutenant repeated their coffee order.

Large black coffee - light hazelnut creamer.  
Two cappuccinos - one light, one extra-dry.  
One latte.  
One Americano,  
and one mocha for her,

heavy chocolate,  
heavy whipped cream,  
heavy _sugar_.

"I should come with you, Hawkeye," Breda tried again.  
She was just released from bed rest a day ago, for heavens' sake.

Riza opened her mouth to protest.  
She needed to walk. She needed to process.  
She needed to recite their order over and over and over.

Large black coffee - light hazelnut creamer.  
Two cappuccinos - one light, one extra-dry.  
One latte.  
One Americano,  
and one mocha for her,

heavy chocolate,  
heavy whipped cream,  
heavy sugar.

Repeat.

If she did not follow suit, her head would ache with worst case scenarios.  
Her most childish heart had fluttered at the hope Dr. Marcoh had offered.  
 _Foolish._ She should know better than to expect a positive outcome.

The stone could fail on a number of cruel technicalities.  
But, Riza could not help the piece of her being  
that had forever insisted on hope.

So.

Her head reeled, her heart raced, her stiches seemed all too thin.  
She felt all too weak. She needed to walk. She needed to process.  
She needed caffeine  
with chocolate  
with sugar  
and _a lo_ t of whipped cream.

Riza opened her mouth to protest.  
Mustang beat her to it,

"Let her go. She'll be fine."

The men exchanged a look.  
That was weird.

Really weird.

If anyone were to be obsessed with Hawkeye's wellbeing,  
it would be the General. But, while the physical effects were so painfully clear,  
no one knew what had happened that day, deep in the tunnels under Central.

Hindsight revealed the General had orchestrated Hawkeye's absence.  
He _suggested coffee._ He had asked _her_ to fetch it, despite her condition.  
He wanted her out of the room, _needed_ her out of the room.

For it was clearly no coincidence that right after Riza left the building,  
Dr. Marcoh circled the corner, held up a red gem,  
and speedily walked through some mumbo jumbo scientific specifics.

"Ready?"

He was supposedly scheduled to arrive just after 9:00.  
It was 8:50. Hawkeye was never late.

"Boss, don't you want to wait-"  
"No."

Even Dr. Marcoh hesitated as if Mustang's authority wasn't enough.  
The men could vouch that this was often true. But, the General politely  
encouraged the doctor to be brief and hasty with his life-altering transmutation.

It didn't seem quite right for something  
of such gravity to be so _anticlimactic._

But, Mustang meant business.

He could not have her in the room  
 _and_ have the stone fail.

The General knew his Lieutenant.

He did not have to see how truly unconvincing she appeared when she smiled.  
There was no need to actually witness the effects of such massive blood loss  
on such a small woman. Pale skin, a sway in her step, even after weeks time.

He didn't need to see it.  
He said _no_. And, that was the end of it.

It was weird.  
Yet,

No one knew what had happened that day.  
Not truly, anyway.

So, they proceeded,  
 _unceremoniously._

There were no grand words.  
No ribbons to cut.  
No champagne to pop.

There was just a lot of red light, a flash.  
Havoc held up his hand and squinted his eyes,  
then bent down to reach for his toes. They itched.

Wait-

Breda and Falman stooped to help him up,  
Then he just stood. Then that was just it.

He could walk again.

"Huh," Havoc exhaled a laugh, gently shaking out his legs.  
They were weak, of course. But, they moved. And, that would certainly do,

"That's pretty remarkable."

Marcoh smiled graciously then swiftly moved to Roy,  
who sat in a trance, stuck in his head.

"That's great, Havoc" he had muttered in response  
to the miracle on the other side of the room.

Breda had barked out a laugh, Falman had grinned,  
Fuery had started _tearing up_ , but Mustang just nodded.

He was being genuine, to be sure.  
But, it was a simple truth Havoc deserved to walk again.  
For some reason, Roy felt he knew there would always be a remedy.

But, Roy Mustang had technically performed human transmutation.  
Perhaps not willingly at the time. But, only moments before, he knew,  
 _He would have done it._ For her, he would have done it.

He deserved this. He ruined everything. His team, their goals.  
He had come to terms, then was presented with hope.

His head now reeled with worst case scenarios,  
prematurely combatting any returning guilt and shame.  
He sat and stewed, stuck in his head,  
The stone would fail, surely.

For, _he would have done it._

No one knew what had happened that day.

Still, Marcoh stepped over to Mustang, and held up his stone.  
It was just the same, hasty and anticlimactic.

Some more bright red light, a flash.  
Roy felt a pulse to his head, like some sort of headache.  
He blinked, rubbed his temples, held his breath,  
and smelled coffee.

She had rushed back, no doubt,  
returning in record time.

Roy looked up and flinched when he realized he just _watched her_  
walk into the room, golden hair smeared, a tray of vaguely cup shaped blobs.

He shook his head and blinked out the blur.

"I have retrieved the drinks," Hawkeye huffed walking past _everyone,_  
making a b-line to the little nightstand at the General's bedside;

Dr. Marcoh had to duck out of her way to avoid being flattened,  
but she never missed a step. She didn't look up.  
She didn't notice.

Everything had changed,  
Dreams were restored,  
Life was anew.

She didn't notice.

And, no one said anything.  
All for different reasons.

Havoc, personally, was petrified of the consequences they all failed to consider  
when they sent the Lieutenant to get coffee then proceeded to conduct a miracle  
over which she had no doubt lost nights and nights of sleep.

Yup.  
They were in for it.

"I brought an extra for the doctor, once he arrives."

Seven cups, Roy's vision cleared and allowed him to take inventory.  
Yes, seven, an obscene amount of whipped cream topping each one

Surely just in case any of the men would be so generous to donate their coffee,  
and all the included sugar, to Riza's reeling head and admittedly fragile constitution.

Oh, yes, she was held together by tape and glue,  
sugar and caffeine. He was right to keep her out.  
But, _what now._

Yup.  
They were really really in for it.

No one said  
anything.

The Lieutenant jostled through the cups,  
picking one up that was most clearly marked _Roy._

He nearly lifted his hand to take it from her.  
Instead, she popped off the lid and stole a sip right out of it,  
the whipped cream leaving her with a most endearing mustache.

"I saw that."

Roy heard his voice, but was honestly shocked he had managed to say anything,  
staring up at her as she came into perfect focus, a most intoxicating rush of relief,  
euphoria and _pure terror_ locking him down.

Still, she didn't blink. She didn't hear.  
She didn't even acknowledge the whipped cream.

She just replaced the cap, set it within his reach, picked up two more cups  
to distribute, and said in passing, "What was that, Sir?"

Riza then _finally_ looked up  
to the men,  
to Havoc _standing,_  
to Dr. Marcoh just behind her shoulder.

"You look good, Lieutenant," Roy rose to his feet, smirked,  
then tapped his upper lip "The mustache suites you."

The cups she held dropped to the floor,  
coffee spilled across her feet.

"You idiot," she muttered, turning back to her superior officer,  
looking straight into his eyes for the first time since that day.  
Roy lost his breath, smiled.

Then.

Riza slapped his cheek, _hard,_  
without pointedly deciding to do so.

The men flinched.  
Marcoh stepped away.

Oh, they were in for it.  
Havoc braced for impact.

But, Mustang just winced off the sting,  
bouncing back unreasonably quick,  
not even phased,  
nor surprised,  
nor offended,

or anything.

All of it was strange. Every detail of this day.  
Just down right weird. But, to be fair:

No one knew what had happened that day.

So, they all just watched as Roy simply sighed back  
into a tired smile and again tapped his upper lip,

"You've still got some whipped cream."

He could see.  
He could really see.  
He reached to her lip and swept off the fluff.

Riza eyes glassed over.

 _On who's authority did you-  
You all had the audacity to-  
How dare you make light of -_

She swallowed.

The Lieutenant wanted to say great many things.  
She meant to scold and scream and reprimand.  
She wanted to slap him again, honestly,  
twice, three times over.

Instead, she just blinked,  
and she broke.

" _You idiot_ "

Riza nearly _fell_ right into his arms, tucking tight into his shoulder,  
squeezing her arms around his waist. Roy did not skip a beat in wrapping her up,  
his arms weaving from her waist and up to brace her shoulders,  
his nose buried in her hair.

He held her tight and so close,  
and she let him do so, willingly.

No one knew what had happened that day,  
the Promised Day.

No one knew what had happened to them,  
deep in the tunnels under Central,  
Not truly, anyway.

With that, the silence finally relented.

Collectively, the men huffed out a breath held for what seemed like an eternity.  
Havoc thought maybe a bomb would go off once Riza came to her senses.  
Maybe she would have lined them up and shot them one by one.

Instead, Riza Hawkeye _hugged_ her General tight,  
a reaction not quite as lethal but still equally as alarming.

"I never imagined the Lieutenant could be so insubordinate,"  
Fuery snickered lightly, the room swept clean with a relief much needed.  
Breda scoffed, "That's nothing. I never imagined the Lieutenant could be a _hugger_."

That got a laugh. That broke the ice.  
It wasn't even a good joke, but,  
finally, it all became real.

And, everybody started hugging everybody.  
Everybody went cheesy and sentimental and gross,  
laughing and grinning.

Celebration ensued. Not as grand as one might expect for such an event.  
There were no ribbons to cut.  
No champagne to pop.

But, it was _them_  
together and alive.

That was enough.

So, in that moment,  
hug they would.

Havoc to Breda. Havoc to Fuery and Falman and Marcoh.  
Marcoh to Havoc. Marcoh to Breda and Fuery and Falman.  
But, the General and his Lieutenant stayed put, right there.

Riza to Roy.  
Roy to Riza.

"Would you like me to clear the room for you, Sir?"

Havoc, of course, wasn't _serious_ when he crossed his arms,  
snidely smiled, grabbed the crutches and swung over  
toward the most peculiar pair.

Still, only then did the General let her go.  
Still, only then did the Lieutenant step away, clear her throat,  
and finally register the entirety of her surroundings.

"Just as an update," Havoc grinned at his friend,  
once half dead, now sufficiently alive, "I can walk again."

Havoc then was treated to an embrace of his own,  
not nearly quite as long, nor quiet as _motivated,_

this time much more characteristic of Lieutenant Hawkeye,  
as much as any hug could be. But, it was certainly worth the deficits  
given Havoc took advantage of such a very rare opportunity to smirk at Mustang from over Riza's shoulder.

Mustang, whose eyesight was restored _just soon enough_  
to watch Hawkeye abandon him for Havoc.

Perhaps such a prank was cruel. Crossing the line just a tad.  
Normally, he would get scolded for such an implication.

 _Inappropriate,_ Mustang would bite, _Dangerous,_ Hawkeye would warn,  
followed by denial, denial, and more most expertly designed denial.

But, here, in the aftermath  
it was _them_. They survived.

They could see and walk  
and feel and live.

For the first time after that night,  
they were okay,  
and that was enough.

"Have you chosen to ignore your fearless leader?" Roy scoffed.  
Havoc let her go and grinned _knowingly_ , "Awe. Do you want a hug, Boss?"

Havoc and Hawkeye broke apart. She swept a strand of blonde behind her ear,  
just now noticing her boots were covered in coffee. In a flurry,  
she dashed off to grab napkins,

and Roy watched her do so, watched her _very carefully,_  
ensuring she was out of earshot and most importantly  
 _out of reach._

 _Awe. Do you want a hug, Boss?_

They could see and walk,  
and feel and live.

For the first time,  
they were okay.

But, such circumstances certainly did not mean  
Roy Mustang would let Jean Havoc get away  
with _that._

 _Awe. Do you want a hug, Boss?_

Mustang turned back to him,  
blinked and deadpanned,

"Absolutely not."

* * *

 _a/n If you squint at the details really close, yes yes, it's not quite canon._  
 _But, I don't care. I say it happened. So, it did happen. I just wish them such happy things._

P.S. Havoc is such a great semi-narrator  
P.S. another _hospital_ geared fic by yours truly, _It doesn't matter,  
_ if this one is too sugary for you, and you'd like something _super_ angsty.


End file.
